


Fairytales

by Writegirl



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Child Abuse, Childhood, Gen, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 04:39:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writegirl/pseuds/Writegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This isn't a story about the princess, or about her lost love. This story is about a boy."</p><p>Light can be found in the darkest of places, one need only know where to look.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fairytales

“Tell me a story.”

The man settled into his corner and tucked the child between his legs. “What kind of story would you like to hear, little one?”

The child half turned. “Something I haven’t heard before.”

He chuckled. “There are only so many stories I know, but I will try.”

They sat in silence as the rest of the inmates shuffled in the darkness. There was no wood for fires that night, and the stubs of candles those who lived above sometimes threw into the pit had long since been burned. The only light came from the half moon just beginning to peak over the edge of the pit, teasing long, thin shadows onto its walls.

“Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess,” he started slowly, “who fell in love with a man her father did not approve of. They ran away together, and were married in secret. For a year, they defied all those who would deny their love, and lived only for each other.”

She fidgeted in his arms. “You’ve told me this story,” she muttered.

“But this isn’t a story about the princess,” he countered. “Or about her love. This is a story about a boy.

“The boy’s father had worked for a warlord, a man feared by all those under his control. The man was a hunter, the best for miles and miles around. It was said he could track a snake over bare rock, that there was nothing that could escape him once he decided to hunt it. His skill had saved his small village from starvation many years. He was from a place far to the north, where it snowed half the year and rained the other half. Still, he came to love his dry home, and the woman who gave him children.

“One day the warlord called for the hunter to do something bad: a village woman had denied his advances, and her people had secreted her way before the warlord’s men could come for her. The boy’s father was charged with punishing the village for what it had done. He was to find the woman and bring her back, so that the warlord could have her."

_"Why do you have to go?"_  
Omar sighed as he packed a small satchel with dried meat. "Because I must."  
The boy folded his arms and kicked at the hard-beaten floor of their house. "But you just came back."  
"And perhaps, when I return, I will have to leave again." The man tied his satchel closed and went to his son, setting a leathery hand on his shoulder. "One day, when you are older, you will learn that there are responsibilities that cannot be shirked, no matter how much you may wish to. It is part of becoming a man." He flashed blue eyes to the cistern in the kitchen. "Including fetching water when your mother asks."  
The boy pouted, but nodded at his father's words.  
Rough lips touched his forehead. "Now go, before your mother decides to skin you and serve you for dinner. I will be home soon."

“The man traveled to the village, but there was no punishment he could give that was worse than what had befallen them. A drought had killed their crops, disease and raiders had taken their herds. They were dying, slowly and painfully. The man focused instead on finding the girl his master desired. For many weeks he searched, riding from village to village. Finally, he caught up to her.

“The woman his master wanted was only a child, barely twelve years old. The man could see the beauty she would become one day, when she blossomed into a woman. The girl pleaded with him to let her go. She would never return to her village, she said. The warlord would forget her once her memory faded from his mind, when his lust fell on another. It would be as if she never lived, if only he would give her the chance.

“The man was torn. He had heard whispers of his master’s tastes, his evils, and could not bear to see such a young child fall victim to them. But he knew his master’s rage would be towering if he returned without the child. He gave her what little supplies he carried and told her how to flee so that others would not find her. The girl thanked him and vanished into the mountains, never to be found.

“Empty handed, the man returned to the warlord. The girl was dead, he said. She had fallen into a ravine, her body broken beyond repair. The warlord was furious that the man had failed him, and in his fury he killed the man where he stood, but he was not satisfied. It was then that he remembered the man had a son. For his father’s failure the boy was thrown into the Pit like so many others. Alone in the darkness he forgot what it was to run free through the fields, to feel the sun on his face. He forgot everything but the rough stones beneath his feet, the hunger hollowing his stomach.”

His charge shifted again. “I don’t like this story.”

He leaned his cheek on her head, arms tightening around her. “Don’t worry, child. There is happiness in it.”

_“Are you all right?”_

_He was on his feet, backing towards the small sliver of light, towards escape, before he realized who had spoken. His last memory was of running, clutching a small rat to his chest in the hope of hiding it from the others. Someone had seen, though, and several men had chased him through the darkness, greedy hands trying to snatch away his prize. Something had struck him from behind, then nothing._

_The woman, because there was no mistaking the voice, was dressed in the rough robes that all those in the Pit wore. A single tallow candle burned in a holder high on the wall, the light flickering in her eyes as she studied him._

_He’d never seen her before that moment. Only heard the rumors; a woman who had taken the place of her lover in the Pit. She was watching him now, one arm crossed over her swollen stomach._

_“The doctor said you almost died,” she continued, walking slowly to a cistern. He watched as she ladled a cupful of water. “Here. You must be thirsty.”_

_He took the cup quickly, before she had a chance to change her mind. Drinking was painful. His lip was split and swollen, and as he ran a tongue along his teeth he noticed that two were missing, one broken near the gum-line. His jaw felt stiff, the skin around his left eye swollen and full._

_“He also said you don’t have a name,” she said as she sat on a narrow cot. “That you have been here for years.”_

_He nodded, unsure of what to say. He finished the water, then slid the cup across the floor to her._

_“My name is Nyssa, and I’m afraid you’ll be stuck in here with me until the doctor returns in a few days.” She reached behind her and pulled out a bundle that she began unwrapping. “Here, you must be hungry.”_

_The bundle held a half-loaf of bread and a salted fish; more food than he’d ever seen in a single place. When he didn’t move she rewrapped the food and rolled it towards him._

_The boy stared. “What do you want for it?” Some of the men would give him a bite of their food in exchange for his body. He was bruised and battered, his mouth swollen and hard to move, but if she wanted it he would give it to her._

_“Nothing,” she answered. “I only wish for you to eat.”_

_The food remained untouched for long minutes as he stared at her and she stared back. Finally she sighed. “It is late, child. Eat or do not, it makes no difference to me.” With those words Nyssa swung her legs up onto the cot and lay down on her side._

 

“It was the first time the boy had felt anything but hunger,” he continued. “Nyssa asked nothing in return. Through the bars of her cell he could see the others moving in the night, imagined they watched him with envy and hatred as he ate. When he finished stripping the last bit of flesh from the fish, when he sucked the smallest crumbs from the cloth his stomach felt too big for his body. Full for the first time he could remember, he lay down before the door to the cell and fell asleep.”

 

_For four days they continued: she would offer him food, and he would wait until she slept to eat it. Nyssa never asked for anything in return; only spoke at times of the world above. She wove tales in the darkness of fields alight with flowers, of rushing rivers and bright, hot sunlight. He tried to understand, but the only green he knew was of the moss that rimed passage walls, the only heat came from bits of wood or the occasional candle. His rivers were the thick torrents that came with heavy rains and drowned those caught unaware in the lower cells._

_On the third day he woke to the sound of her labored breathing. When the boy stood and tried to help she waved him away. “They come and go,” she said with a grimace. “The doctor says it won’t be long, now.”_

_When the spasm passed she let out a short burst of laughter. “The child grows restless,” she explained to him. “He won’t stop kicking me.”_

_The boy ducked his head, unsure of what to say. He was surprised when a hand reached out and took his, placing it on her stomach. She held it there until he felt pressure against his palm and jerked out of her reach._

_“It’s all right,” she reassured him._

_Slowly, carefully, he approached and placed his hand over the swell of her belly. The pressure returned, running along his palm to the heel of his hand._

_“He likes you,” Nyssa told him with a smile._

_The sound of footsteps awoke him the next morning. Four men walked to the door of the cell: the doctor and three armed guards. He scrambled to his feet, muscles sore and stiff._

_“So you lived,” the doctor mused, the heavy keys jangling as he searched for the one to the cell. The lock turned with a groaning of metal. Afraid, he turned to the woman and saw she slept on; her hair tumbled free of her scarf and falling in a dark tide to the floor. With a growl he clinched his fists and put himself between them. He came only to the chest of the shortest man, but he had lived his life in the darkness, been raised in it, and knew how to survive._

_One of the guards swore and stalked forwards, but the doctor stopped him with a sharp word. He stepped back and raised his weapon in warning._

_“I have taken care of her since she came here, boy,” the doctor told him. “These men are her father’s, and will do her no harm.” He entered the cell, eyes never straying from the boy’s. “She is in no danger.”_

_"Doctor?” The boy heard the shuffle of cloth as Nyssa rose behind him._

_His face split into a smile. “It seems you have found a guard dog.”_

_A small hand landed on the boy’s shoulder. “It is all right,” the woman told him soothingly. “They wish me no harm.”_

_The boy gave them another assessing look before stepping aside, folding himself into a corner. The doctor and one of the guards entered the cell, the other two remained outside the bars, guns trained towards those who might try and attack._

 

“The child was born a month later. Born pure and strong, a light in the darkness of the Pit. The boy swore he would do everything he could to protect him, and his mother.”

“But mother died,” his charge told him, words heavy with sleep.

“Yes. There are those in these walls who would destroy anything good, because they cannot stand the thought of it. It was an act of carelessness that cost your mother her life, carelessness that others took advantage of.” The child nodded solemnly against his chest. “Enough stories for now, little one. Time to sleep.”

The child protested when he set her aside. He pried loose a stone and watched as she clambered into the space, settling against the far wall where greedy hands could not reach her. Soon she would be too big to fit, and the scant protection offered her by the crawl spaces would be lost. 

_Keep her safe,_ those were the last words Nyssa said to him, her body broken and violated. _Her father will come. Keep her safe until then, bhai._

He propped himself against the wall, robes spread to conceal the small hiding place. In the quiet darkness he could hear the hacking cough that was spreading through the Pit and drew his scarf over his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> In the DCU a young Bane (8-9 years old) was sentenced to life in prison in place of his father.  
> bhia is Urdu for brother


End file.
